


Everyone thinks I dodged a bullet (I think I shot the gun)

by Lizicia



Category: Karppi | Deadwind (TV)
Genre: DEFINITE SPOILERS, F/M, I just need them to talk and be less obstinate, Post-Season 2
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:02:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25532563
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizicia/pseuds/Lizicia
Summary: "As soon as Nurmi exits the building with Henna, and feels Karppi's eyes on him, he knows that any notions he might have had of a normal life, normal relations with her, are gone.He doesn't have to look at her to know that he's hurt her in a way that is indefensible, irrevocable, irreparable."Post-season 2 finale where Karppi and Nurmi actually talk about things, instead of not. Feelings will be had, things will be said, actions will be taken.
Relationships: Sofia Karppi/Sakari Nurmi
Comments: 10
Kudos: 64





	Everyone thinks I dodged a bullet (I think I shot the gun)

**Author's Note:**

> I just want them to be less miserable, okay, if I can't have them being happy.  
> Title from Greg Laswell's "Dodged a bullet".

As soon as Nurmi exits the building with Henna, and feels Karppi's eyes on him, he knows that any notions he might have had of a normal life, normal relations with her, are gone.

He doesn't have to look at her to know that he's hurt her in a way that is indefensible, irrevocable, irreparable.

It's all the more clear when she comes, no, _runs_ up to them at the precinct, having had to possibly break several traffic laws to arrive before them, and in the most flat, most frighteningly calm voice asks, “What the fuck are you doing.”

“Henna is a person of interest in the murder of one Sasha Nyqvist. She will be interrogated.”

“You can't do this.”

No matter where Nurmi would imagine Karppi to stress one word in that sentence, it is all the more damning to him.

“I suggest you find a good lawyer.”

He turns away and lets the police officer take Henna into processing, making his way to the acting chief's office, committing another grave sin, he knows perhaps the gravest of them all, by leaving.

Karppi doesn't call after him.

* * *

After – after he's recused himself from the case, because he's Karppi's partner, after Henna's smart and seemingly expensive lawyer has arrived, after he's heard Karppi berate the detective in charge but not gone to explain anything to her – he goes home.

The two half-empty coffee cups mock him. His cot is still unmade. There's a hair tie on the kitchen island.

He doesn't have regrets. It was the only possible solution to a truly awful situation. There was no other way.

Well.

Maybe he wouldn't have let Karppi and Henna get away with lying to him. He saw their expressions when they whispered under the bridge, when Karppi lied to his face that everything was fine, when he already knew that nothing about Henna could be considered _fine_.

Maybe he should've pressed, he should've urged, he should've made her tell him what was happening.

He doesn't understand how someone like Karppi could've conceivably agreed to keep Henna's secrets. If she really did kill Nyqvist – he'd like to believe no but Karppi's actions make him think yes – then Karppi must know that she has a duty. Such secrets are not for citizens to keep, and even less for police officers to do so. 

He doesn't understand the depths of love she must have for Henna, for a girl who has brought her nothing but trouble and heartache, who has been every bit contrarian and difficult to raise.

But he's not a parent.

(He doesn't think of the little boy he will never see again.)

A knock on the door startles him out of his reverie, and though it could presumably really be only one person, he also doesn't understand why.

And yet it is Sofia Karppi.

“If you've come to yell at me, go ahead. But you should know that I won't apologize.”

He leaves the door open and hears her close it a moment later. The silence stretches between them and despite what he offered, she doesn't yell. Instead, she's so quiet for such a long time that he turns around himself and yes, she's still there.

“I don't want to yell at you. And I definitely don't want your apologies.”

That flat, unfamiliar tone of voice is still there, but he now recognizes it better for what it really is – feigned coldness and passivity.

“Okay.”

She must have _something_ to say, otherwise why would she be here. Her gaze flits about the room and he takes a moment to think how absurdly small she is, but how she still manages to fill his white, spacious, empty apartment, standing still in the middle of it.

“I should've told you the truth.”

Of all the things he was expecting, this is not it.

“I wanted to. There was a moment where I wanted to, where I thought the weight of what I knew would crush me. But then...I didn't.”

She locks her gaze on him and it's like a stab, a crushing weight of a boulder, and probably only a fraction of what she must have been feeling.

“If you knew then you would've talked. And I couldn't make you choose.”

That frustrates him more than anything these past weeks has, than anything he's had to endure. It's not for her to make such choices, it's not what their partnership is about. He'd thought they'd come a long way from her being a solitary actor.

“You could've trusted me.”

The moment that word escapes him, that moment of frustration, he knows it's a misstep because her eyes narrow.

“Trust you. You arrested Henna. You, personally!”

She shouts now, the emotions coming loose, the fury in her eyes flashing like he's been expecting for some time.

“You've heard the charges against her. You know what they have. I'm sure the lawyer has told you that things look very bad. I did her the only kindness I could've – that she wouldn't be arrested by the guys from the drugs division.”

Karppi scoffs at that. “A kindness. You should've told me.”

“And ruined your career more than you've already done yourself?”

“Oh, don't you dare say that you did this for _me_! You did this for you, to be blameless, to be clean, to carry on with _your_ career! That's all that matters to you!”

Despite her promise not to yell at him, her voice rises, hurling the last words at him like stones being cast and he can feel each and every one of them, can feel them land and find their mark with everything he's ever been accused of. So he doesn't have a good comeback, at least not one which wouldn't tear open the basis of their relationship, one which wouldn't reveal too much.

“I did it to stop you from throwing away everything that you've worked for. I don't know what you know – because you didn't tell me – but if it's even half of what I think, then I'm worried. For you, for Henna, for Emil. This is a fucking shitshow and it's going to get a lot worse before it gets better. You shouldn't have come if you hadn't realized that.”

His words aren't particularly poignant nor convincing, not to himself, so he's expecting her to either continue to yell or leave in a huff, never to be seen again.

What he definitely doesn't expect is for her to visibly deflate. There's that sheen of tears in her eyes again that he doesn't know how to cope with.

“Henna is my responsibility. I've always thought her rebellious and headstrong. But I always expected her to come through anything. And now...I don't know.”

There's an urge building inside of him, to go to her, to do anything to cut through the dark and twisted vortex between them, inside him.

The last time, that urge led him to kiss her by the sea, hungrily, brashly, and wrongly.

So he takes a step back behind the kitchen island and grabs at the edge, to give his hands something to do, to give himself a distraction.

The coffee cups continue to mock him.

He turns around and without even thinking, fills the machine and grabs new cups. There's a sense of order to this, a sense of straightforwardness which takes the nervous edge off of him.

When he turns around with the cup, Karppi's sitting on the other side of the island, looking at him. She's lost her coat and made good use of the hair tie.

Wordlessly, he places the cup in front of her and she accepts it, downing the bit too hot coffee in one go. There's another beat of silence when she puts the empty cup down and twirls it around. Finally, she looks at him again, and there's something dangerous lurking in her eyes now.

“I do trust you. But...I can't rely on you. It's too complicated.”

The words are a mere whisper, and Nurmi knows they're close to something again, that nameless thing which keeps simmering, that which was last brought on by a similar coffee ritual mere hours ago.

“Had you asked me, I would've told you everything. Anything.”

He closes his eyes to that; it's too much and it won't help them at all. “I could've asked. I chose not to. Maybe you are right that I didn't want to risk my career.”

If they're revealing truths, he must say what he's been thinking, what he's been feeling. The would-haves will be the death of them.

When he feels her fingers curl around his hand, he opens his eyes. The tenderness she bestows upon him now is almost too much, and he feels frightful and wholly undeserving of what she might say next.

“No. I couldn't make you bear that cost. I couldn't make you complicit. And I wanted to be the one who solved it. Now everything's worse and I don't know what to do. But as much as I can help it, I must remain the only one who is touched by this. I can't make you be a part of this mess.”

So it is simultaneously the best and worst thing he's heard. He doesn't deserve the pedestal he's been put on; his life was a mess before her, it has always been a mess but whatever she'd offer him, he'd take gladly.

But he doesn't know how to say that, how to explain why in a way he wanted to create a rift between them, why he denied her when she tried to kiss him, in those moments so far gone that they seem to belong to a different life. The urgency in him blossoms again and he doesn't know how to tamp it down.

“Sofia, I-” her given name feels like a sacrament, coming out of his mouth in that moment, and her sharp intake of breath means that she must understand many of the things he can't say.

So when she rises from her seat, this time he looks straight at her and does not turn his head away when she kisses him, full of tenderness. He doesn't dare move, so his hand continues holding hers on the counter, the only parts of them that touch along with their mouths.

Despite the circumstances, the mess, he feels like this is the first truly honest, pure kiss of his life and it's all because of her.

When they break apart, he still feels like he can't move, or he'll kill the moment. When she raises their joined hands to her lips and kisses his fingers so delicately, so softly, and with the slightest hint of mischievousness, says _Sakari_ , he finally bursts into flames, and without any compunction, frames her face in his hands and kisses her fully, feeling her move towards him, behind the island, and it is both expected and unexpected.

For all the consideration he gave when he didn't kiss her in the morning, he now lets go of all of that and it takes mere moments for them to move towards the cot. Nothing is solved, no one has been absolved and there will still be a gruesome world for them to deal with. But for some glorious moments, there is a sense of order.


End file.
